


Repentance

by BlueEyedWhiteKitty



Category: Enderal (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Flirting, Fondling, Hair-pulling, Masturbation, Post-Rhalata Storyline, Smut Cliffhanger, Tharael Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-12 14:17:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18012491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedWhiteKitty/pseuds/BlueEyedWhiteKitty
Summary: As much as he tries not to, Tharael can't help himself when it comes to the Prophetess.





	1. Prophet's Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, fellow readers/writers! I haven't written fanfiction in a long time (almost a decade) but I couldn't stop myself from writing about my Prophetess, Dreya, and our favorite Rhalata member, Tharael. This is after completing the Rhalata questline, and takes place a few months or so after the Prophetess convinces Tharael not to commit suicide. I haven't yet decided if I want to write this as a cohesive series, or just drabbles. I'm probably going to continue writing this off site until I feel comfortable adding more. I hope you enjoy what I've posted so far, and let me know any constructive criticisms you may have.

For Tharael, the trouble with repentance was not knowing where to start. He---a murderer that believed in the philosophy of the ends justifying the means---had a lot of things to seek penance for. This is partially why he chose to travel with the Prophetess after returning from the temple. The other reason confused him, however. Since returning to the city, he found himself feeling strange… the understatement of the year, in fact. He hadn’t quite figured out the depth of her feelings for him, let alone his own for her. And he couldn’t stand the lack of clarity since he’d always been one to let his emotions guide his actions.

She offered him her home, a place to sleep outside of the dark, rotten stench of the Undercity. But this wasn’t an invitation offered with ulterior motives; she had two houses in Ark, after all. One in the Market district, and the other in the nobles quarter. Quite fitting for someone of her station since she was a literal prophetess of the end times themselves. 

He leaned back in his chair by the hearth, fiddling a stray branch of hay between his fingers thoughtfully. She hadn’t been given these properties, though; she had bought them with her own coin, which she’d earned by being a skilled mercenary. She knew how to take care of herself, and that is what drew him to her in the first place. Seeing her fighting in the arena had sparked an interest within him; he had been biding his time day by day, hour by hour, searching through the Undercity and beyond for someone with the strength to aid him in his ultimate plan of revenge. But once he’d enacted his plan and she helped him see it through to fruition in the end, he now found himself adrift. So when the Prophetess offered the chance for him to accompany her on her expeditions against The High Ones, or whatever they called themselves, he had almost jumped at the opportunity. 

The days were steadily getting warmer, the seasons changing from a cool spring to a hot and heady summer in more ways than one. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed the lack of layers the Prophetess had been wearing lately. In the winter months and the Frostcliffe Mountains, she’d donned a large cloak to cover her heavily armored shoulders and torso, the armor itself covering her entire body. Truth be told, he hadn’t even been able to tell her gender until they were fighting one another in the arena. He had swiped the brunt of his blade across her face, more so to distract her from blocking his attacks than anything, and the force behind his blow had sent her mask flying. The face that greeted him was more than a shock: Bright olive eyes, full lips, and a wide jawline, as well as a jagged scar that ran across her left cheek to the bridge of her roman nose. Thick copper waves fell down her shoulders and framed her high cheekbones. To say it took him by surprise was an understatement, and it was what had lost him the fight against her. Once she realized his moment of hesitancy, she took the opportunity presented to her and had bashed him in the chest with her starling shield. The strength behind the movement caused him to stumble backwards onto his back, and he looked up at her with bewilderment at the smirk curving around the edges of her lips as she stood over him, the edge of her obsidian axe lightly grazing his neck. The power, the triumph, that filled her gaze, the look she gave him in that moment… He’d wanted to push her against the caged walls of the arena and feel her squirm around his---

Forcefully pulling himself out of the memory, he slammed his fist on the table, causing the ale in his tankard to tip. He cursed and grabbed a cloth resting by the hearth and began swiping it across the droplets that littered his tunic. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he was… attracted to her. He wasn’t a stranger to lust, quite the contrary. He just never acted on those desires, even when he was a teenager with raging loins. He ultimately knew it would distract from his mission to enact revenge on the Father. So, he quelled those desires, and would take care of the matter himself when he was alone. Speaking of which... he rolled his eyes as he felt the throb in his erect member. Blazes, when had that happened? Well, he was in his own house, borrowed from the Prophetess as it was, and he was alone… 

He shifted his weight, pulling his member from his breeches. He fisted his hand around himself and groaned at the feeling. His mind flitted from one memory to the next before ultimately stopping on the memory of seeing the Prophetess in her smalls for the first time. He lazily began to stroke his cock. She’d brought him to the bath house in the noble district, where they’d procured a private room instead of using the public pool. He himself had never set foot inside such an establishment, such luxuries were seen as wasteful and unnecessary to the Rhalata and he wasn’t going to chance seeming disloyal to the cause. Due to capacity issues, he’d had to share a bathing room with her and to be honest, he wasn’t exactly keen on undressing in front of several dozen people. Upon reaching their room, they’d both changed behind separate screens, and he had to force his desires to heel from the sound of her clothing being removed from her body. He finished before her, and hurriedly sat down in the warm water, his back resting against the cool stone of the pool. He gritted his teeth as he watched her tunic sway across the top of the wooden screen, and his breath caught in his throat as she emerged from behind it. Her curves were laid bare before him, only small bits of fabric hiding most of her breasts and the mound between her legs from his gaze. 

He tightened the grip on his cock, stroking in earnest now as small, quick pants began to leave his parted lips. He closed his eyes and remembered how beautiful, how utterly perfect she looked. Her skin flushed from the warm water, the tips of her nipples straining the fabric encasing her breasts, goosebumps causing the hair on her arms to prickle. It had taken everything within him not to take his pleasure from her in that moment. As much as he’d wished it to, the memory didn’t end in him pumping himself between her thighs; it was ultimately a rather chaste experience between them, despite their lack of clothing. But here, alone in this house, in her house, her smell permeating the air around him even days after she’d moved out, he didn’t need to hold back. He could imagine pressing his hand against the taut, muscled flesh of her abdomen, swiping his tongue along the juncture of her neck, snaking his palm down into her smalls to the folds between her legs. And she would be so warm, so wet and ready for him to plunge his fingers deep within her, to stretch and massage his digits along her fluttering walls. She would moan and gasp as he thoroughly worked her, pushing her smalls down her thighs to grant him better access to her pliant body. She’d grind herself into his palm, wanting to feel more of him as he pressed love bite after love bite into the skin of her shoulder, leaving marks behind as she tightened around his fingers and then she’d reach her peak, breathlessly crying out his name against his skin, her tongue darting out to lick the sweat from his throat---

“Fuck!” He cursed, his voice raspy as the cum spurted from his member suddenly, his fist steadily continuing to pump out the remaining ropes. He let out a long, slow sigh as the feeling of his climax ebbed through his body, the tips of his toes relaxing against the wooden floor. When he touched himself to the thought of the Prophetess, it always brought him release when he thought about serving her, or just making her feel good. He didn’t know whether it was because he hadn’t ever had a sexual experience with anyone besides himself, or if she simply fascinated him enough to cause him to want to submit to her in some way.

While he sat there recovering, he heard a knock at the door. He hurriedly stuffed his half-hardened member back into his breeches, swiping the cloth from earlier across his spent seed and stood. He braced himself against the door way as he gripped the doorknob.

Her hand was perched into a fist as if in mid-knock when he opened the door, and her eyes flitted down and around his body as she took in his state of dress. He was wearing a loose off-white tunic that framed his pecs and dark pants that hung low on his hips. He saw the amusement spark in her emerald gaze as her eyes fell on his bare feet and he fought the urge to hide them somehow. He always felt so exposed to her when she looked at him, clothed or not.

“May I come in?” She asked, a small tilt to her head. 

He grunted in affirmation before leaning backwards to give her room to enter. She stepped past him, her fingertips brushing against the fabric of his shirt accidentally. He felt his stomach tighten reflexively before closing the door behind her.

She leaned against the table by the hearth, resting her hips on the wood lightly before turning to him. Despite her actually owning the property, once she had basically gifted it to him, she acted as if he was the title owner. And that seemed to endear him to her even more.

“Good morning,” She greeted, her voice echoing in the sparsely decorated room.

“Morning,” He inclined his head. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company at this early hour?”

She let out a snort. “It’s almost noon, Tharael.”

“Well, some of us aren’t early risers like you are, Prophetess.” He cocked a brow. “And it's not like there is a lot of sunlight in the Undercity to know the difference.”

She grinned up at him. “Suppose not.”

He sat down by the unlit hearth and braced his forearms on his knees while leaning forward. “So?” 

He caught the quick flit of her eyes, her gaze falling to the light dusting of hair on his chest that wasn’t covered by the low dip of his tunic. He couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his lips when her newly dilated gaze returned to his own. “See something you like, Prophetess?”

“It’s harder to pinpoint something I don’t like when I look at you, Tharael,” her voice ghosted past her lips and his eyes reflexively widened at the husky undertone of her voice. It always took his breath away how forthright she was, despite himself sharing that same characteristic. Before he could stop himself, he uttered, “The feeling is mutual, I assure you.”

With that, a small blush seemed to creep up her neck at his admission and he fought the urge to fidget under her olive gaze. He wasn’t usually so open about his attraction to her and he quickly worked to change the topic. “But I assume you aren’t here to simply exchange pleasantries and compliments.”

She cleared her throat before continuing with a deadpan expression, “Ah, well, I was wondering if you’d like to go on an egg hunt with me this afternoon.”

Silence filled the still air around them.

“An egg hunt.” He repeated, an equally stoic expression crossing his features.

Her lips, ever so expressive, couldn’t help but curve upwards at the edges. 

“Indeed. I am in need of a skilled tracker, you see. These aren’t just any eggs.”

“I see,” he drawled. “And what kind are they, pray tell?”

“Hammerbird.” She sat down on the chair beside her, crossing her legs at the ankles. “They’re quite elusive. I have been searching on and off the past couple of months, but haven’t found any trace of them.”

“That’s probably because of the weather,” Tharael stated. “We had a rather cold spring this year.”

“That’s what I was thinking as well,” She continued before leaning forward. “So? Feel up for it?”

Tharael shrugged noncommittally before standing suddenly. He began to pull on a light leather vest, tucking his tunic into the waist of his breeches before reaching for his boots. “Couldn’t hurt to get some fresh air.”

“Exactly!” She nodded enthusiastically. “I figured we could also stop by the bakery, get some sweet bread before heading out.”

He paused from lacing his boots to look up at her. Ever since the… seizure she’d witnessed him having in the orphanage, she had always been pushing food on him. Not that he minded, of course. He just wasn’t used to being pampered or taken care of in any sense by someone other than himself. 

“You know I can’t say no to fresh, tasty bread,” he found himself chuckling at his reference to the boisterous girl that sold baked goods in the market. He stood and walked to the door, gripping the handle and tossing a bemused smirk over his shoulder at her.

The Prophetess joined him, holding her hand against her mouth as a few snickers escaped between her fingers.

Together, they left Prophet’s Rest, the home that was steadily growing on him by each passing day.


	2. Holy Heart's Desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I just finished editing this one and had to push it out. I'm so glad for the feedback I've gotten so far, you guys are amazing! Also, long chapter is long. Hopefully it isn't too long winded, I tend to do that with my writing sometimes. Anyways, enjoy!

“Ha, I win again!” 

“Blazes, woman, how do you keeping _doing_ that?!” 

“Luck of the draw, young myrad!”

“Dammit!” Tharael tossed his cards on the table in frustration, his brow furrowed as he watched the object of his annoyance dance around the table in victory.

“Aww, don’t be a sore loser, Tharael!” She laughed, the corners of her olive eyes crinkling at the corners as she sat back down across from him. 

“I’m not convinced that you didn’t pull that last card from your smalls,” He grumbled into his tankard, taking a long swig before returning it to the table.

“Nonsense!” She exclaimed in mock outrage, her hand flying to rest over her heart. “I am the most chaste, honest person you will ever meet! I am part of The Holy Order, you know.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes, attempting to fight the grin spreading across his lips. “You’re not fooling me, o’ grand Prophetess. I happen to know what you hide under your mattress.”

“Tharael!” She flicked her deck at him, causing the cards to litter the floor and other surfaces around both of them. An indignant blush started to filter up from her neckline.

“I’m not picking those up,” He deadpanned, kicking one from where it landed on his boot.

“Oh yes, you are,” She supplied with playful venom. “Or did you forget our deal?”

“Deal?” He brushed his pants free of cards, regarding her over his ale with a cocked brow. He didn’t remember making any kind of deal with her as far as cards went… or anything else, for that matter.

“Oh, how convenient,” She narrowed her olive eyes at him. “I shall refresh your memory, then.” She pressed her hands together with a rather maniacal gleam to her gaze. “If I were to win three hands of Battle at Treomar in a row, you have to do everything my holy heart desires for one. Entire. Day.”

He sputtered around the tankard against his lips. “We made that pact over two weeks ago! And we were both absolutely sloshed!” 

“Ah-ah,” She wagged her finger at him in admonishment. “A pact is just that---a pact. No take backs.”

“Blazes,” he cursed before taking a long swig of his ale, his pointed ears filled with her satisfied cackling. What in the nine hells had he gotten himself into?

A short while later, after he had indeed picked up the cards littering the floor and tables surrounding them, she crooked a finger at him from the doorway of the inn to signal him to follow her. He trailed behind her with a long sigh of resignation, other patrons deciding to fill the air with hoots and hollers as she sashayed her hips out the door.

“You’re such a lush, Prophetess,” Tharael chided her with a playful shake of his head, his eyes lingering on the sway of her curves. 

“Am not!” 

“Are, too.” 

“Am not!” 

“Are, too.” 

“Am not!” 

“Are, too.” 

This went on for some time, both of them bickering good-naturedly back and forth. They were still at it while Tharael slid the key to Prophet’s Rest in the lock. The action sobered him for a second, realizing how late it was, along with his slight level of inebriation. 

“Would you like to come inside?” He offered, clearing his throat.

Her deep green eyes widened slightly before her expression visibly relaxed. “I would like that very much.”

“Good.” He gave her a passing glance before turning the key in the lock and pushing the door open with a small shove.

Once inside, he shrugged off his vest and slid off his boots, the Prophetess doing the same. They sat their shoes by the fire to keep warm, and Tharael moved to the small cask on the table. 

“Wine?” He asked offhandedly, his eyes flitting to rest on her form as she relaxed on a chair beside the hearth. He felt his breath catch at how ethereal she looked, her hair blazing in the firelight like a sunset on the horizon. And by the Sun, her eyes always entranced him, the olive green transforming to a cool mossy shade when she was relaxed, like she was at this moment. He tore his eyes away before his thoughts turned indecent.

“Please,” She answered, her tone holding something he couldn’t quite describe.

“So…” He started, offering the tankard to her. “Has your heart decided on it’s first holy desire of the night?”

“Mmmh,” She mused thoughtfully, her lips resting on the edge of her cup. “I have a lot of desires, but none of them are exactly holy, Tharael.”

He chuckled, feeling his cheeks flush uncharacteristically once again because of her candor. “I figured not.”

Silence permeated the room, the only sound the wind beating against the windows and the fire crackling in the hearth.

“We’ve been dancing around this for quite some time now.” He broke the silence and paused to sneak a glance at her. She was looking at him intently, seemingly waiting on him to continue. He fought the urge to scoff; of course she was, she was the most open person he had ever met. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

She cleared her throat before answering. “Yes, I would. But I remember you telling me that you needed time.”

“Yes, I did.” He raked a hand through his steadily growing light brown hair, avoiding her gaze. “But… we need to start somewhere, correct?”

“I would concur with that statement, as well.” She paused to lean forward, her empty tankard dangling from her fingers between her knees. “Tharael, look at me.”

His eyes caught hers, and he knew he was scowling. He forced his expression to relax. 

“Tharael…” Her gaze was so soft, so kind, her tone careful. “What you are, the Simulacrum…”

“What does that matter?” He paused suddenly, his brows furrowing as hurt started to bloom in his chest. “Does that bother you? Are you… disgusted?”

“Oh Gods, Tharael, no!” She interjected quickly, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to imply… agh, when I visited the Father’s chamber, he showed me…”

“Showed you what? Spit it out!” Tharael could feel his ears growing hot with annoyance.

“He showed me... “ She raked her fingers through her coppery waves before turning to him once more. “In his room, there was a… body on display, a Simulacrum.”

“That is quite macabre, but not exactly surprising given who he was,” Tharael quipped with a roll of his eyes.

“Yes, but…” She trailed off before her eyes met his again. “The body, it… it didn’t have any genitalia, Tharael.”

Tharael froze in his chair, his eyes widened in shock as he looked up at her. “Wha…?”

“It looked to be a masculine body, but… there was nothing down there.” Her teeth worried her bottom lip in nervousness. “It was as if… it had never even existed. Just… blank.”

Tharael felt anger fill his chest, swelling and surging inside of him like a tidal wave. Not anger at her, necessarily, just anger at the entire situation. 

“So I suppose I just assumed…”

“That I didn’t have a cock? That I couldn’t please you?” Tharael could feel his blood starting to boil, his questions coming out in a sharp hiss between his teeth. He stood up and began to pace around the small room.

“By the Sun, Tharael!” She looked almost hysterical. “I just didn’t know, okay? I had no idea how to approach that with you, either. It’s not exactly something that organically comes up in conversation!”

He continued pacing around the room. “So this entire time, you thought I didn’t have…”

“I wasn't sure,” She answered, looking defeated, dropping down onto a stool by the hearth.

He stopped pacing and clenched his jaw, feeling his own anger dissipate slightly as he looked at her. “I can wholeheartedly assure you that I do.”

“Okay,” she answered, her voice muffled as she held her head in her hands. Her elbows braced against her knees, fiery waves of hair glinting in the light. It looked like she belonged in some sort of tragic painting.

“And it’s...“ He trailed off, annoyed by the sudden need he felt to reinstate his manhood. “Well, let’s just say that you wouldn’t be disappointed.”

A choked laugh suddenly bubbled up from her throat, and that’s when he realized she was crying. Fuck.

“Dreya,” He knelt at her side, his voice considerably softer. He gripped her forearm gently. “Look at me.”

“I’m okay,” She said, moving her hands away from her face to give him a watery smile. “I just…” Her breath hitched as her olive eyes looked deeply within his. “I’m so _sorry_ , Tharael.”

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, and he felt himself at a loss. Besides the time when she’d sobbed after waking up from a nightmare, he had never seen her cry. She was always the strong one, the one that supported him, and he was having trouble dealing with the tables being turned so suddenly.

“What are you apologizing for?” He kept his grip on her forearm, but besides that he didn’t embrace her. 

“For everything. For the Father, for the Foulness, for Letho…” She took in a deep breath, her hand coming to rest on top of his. “For how lonely you were, and how lost you must have felt…” Her eyes fell to the floor. “I wish I could have done something to help you.”

“Dreya…” He couldn’t stop himself from sliding a stray coppery strand of hair from her face, swiping it gently behind her ear. He felt his heart beat faster at their close proximity; this was the most he had ever touched her before on purpose. “You weren’t even in Enderal until less than half a year ago.”

“Yes, but… I just wish I could have been there for you,” She said softly, her hand coming to rest on his cheek. “You don’t know how much you mean to me, Tharael.” Her beautiful eyes sought his, and it shocked him how eager he suddenly was to feel her against him. He trusted her, and damn his complicated feelings, he needed to feel close to her. He felt himself closing the distance between them quickly, his lips crashing down on hers. She gasped into his mouth and her breath was so sweet that he swept his tongue across hers, a groan of pure need leaving his throat. His cock strained and throbbed beneath his trousers, and he fisted a handful of her long hair to hold her in place before tearing his mouth from hers, looking down at her with lust evident in his dilated pupils.

“I want you,” He stated hotly against her mouth. “And I’m going to take you.”

“Tharael…” Dreya sounded almost drunk, her eyes fluttering slightly as breath left her mouth in small pants. “Are you sure…?”

“Shhh…” He pressed his lips against her pulse, licking there before biting down slightly. Her body froze, and then she let out a long, drawn out moan as his hand began to travel around her body. He tightened his fist on her hair, turning her face back towards his own to capture her in another breathless kiss. His other hand crept down, slipping open the knot in front of her tied bodice. He slid inside the loosened material and past her breast band, reveling in the smooth texture of her skin before cupping one of her breasts in his palm, his thumb rubbing against her pebbled nipple. 

“You feel so good, Dreya,” He told her as she gasped into his mouth again. He teased her nipple between his thumb and index finger, twisting it slightly in his eagerness to hear more sounds leave her throat. “I’ve wanted to touch you like this ever since the Arena.”

She seemed to sober a tad at his words and movement, looking up at him in surprise. “You’ve wanted me for that long?”

“Once I saw your face, I knew I wanted to fuck you senseless,” he continued against her lips, his hand slipping out of her bodice.  
He pressed up closer against her, causing her back to rest against the wall beside the bedroom door. He gripped her right upper thigh firmly, moving it upwards until her dress slid up past her hips. “Does it feel like I’m lying to you, Prophetess?”

She moaned as he ground his pelvis against hers, his hardened cock pressing against her smallclothes through his leather trousers. 

“Gods, Tharael,” She moaned as he continued to rub himself between her thighs. Her lips sought for his once more, her core continuing to throb as his hand snaked its way down---

Pounding at the door caused them both to jolt against each other.

“Mydame?” A harried voice called through the closed door. “Mydame Prophetess!”

Dreya let out a small groan, pressing a chaste kiss to Tharael’s lips before pulling out from his grasp. He coughed and adjusted his member in his trousers, trying to hide how excited he’d become at their foreplay. Dreya looked at him with a rueful smile while straightening out her own clothing. She made her way to the door and opened it to reveal a lanky Keeper in light armor, his steel helmet resting in the crook of his arm.

“I’m sorry for bothering you at this ungodly hour, but I was told you’re urgently needed,” He bowed his blonde head to her in respect and she inclined her chin in kind. “I visited your property in the nobles quarter first, but couldn’t find you, Mydame.”

“Who sent you?” Dreya asked.

“”Tis straight from King Arantheal himself, Mydame,” He offered. “You’re needed at the Sun Temple posthaste.” 

She nodded and reached for the coin pouch tied to her belt, pressing a few pennies into his palm with a smile. 

“Thank you for the message, Mysir.” He nodded and she shut the door as he turned away. She leaned against it, looking at Tharael with an upturned copper brow.

“...Well.” She supplied, trying to disperse the tense air around them. She ran a hand through her russet hair, her flushed cheeks spreading into a knowing grin. “That was…”

“Go, Prophetess,” He interrupted her, crossing his arms while leaning against the opposite wall. He wasn’t looking at her.

“Tharael,” She moved to close the distance between them, a furrow beginning to worry her brows.

“I’m fine, I just…” His eyes rose to hers, and she stilled her movement at the unadulterated ardor smoldering in his gaze. “If I touch you now, I won’t let you leave this house for an entire week.”

A small whimper left her lips as she began to back away from him slowly. She grabbed her boots and tugged them on hurriedly, winking at him before grabbing the doorknob.

“I’ll go and see what Arantheal wants, then I’ll be right back.” Her olive eyes held a promise, the grin from earlier returning to curl around her plump lips. “We’ll continue this later.” Then with a soft click of the door behind her, she was gone.

Tharael opened the door to his bedroom, sinking on the bed to lie on his back. He threw a forearm over his eyes and willed his cock to soften, a deep sigh leaving his lungs. 

“I’ll hold you to that, Prophetess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the smut cliff hanger! I'm steadily working on the third chapter and it will for sure have a full smut scene in it for you sinners. ;) I hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought of it. ^_^


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